by Mari Mancusi
As he came across the well, the sound stopped abruptly and the placid waters began to bubble and boil again, as they had earlier. Arthur peered inside, mesmerized, as they shifted to reveal a large green field, painted with some kind of numbers and lines and surrounded by stands made of metal.
Strange. But not dangerous looking. Arthur shrugged and turned to walk away; he'd already messed with the well enough that day. But then a glint of light caught his eye and he found himself looking back again, suddenly realizing the field wasn't so empty after all.
The scabbard was there. Lying on the grass, just waiting to be picked up. Arthur sighed. It looked so close. As if he could just reach down and grab it through the strands of time.
And maybe he could.
Inspired, he leaned down into the well, heart in his throat. Holding onto a nearby vine, he stretched his right hand out, down into the waters, trying to grab the sheath. At first he felt nothing. Just water. But then his hands brushed across something solid. He could feel the jewels at his fingertips. He just had to lean in a little bit more to wrap his hand around it and—
Suddenly the waters swirled. The vine he'd been holding broke.
And Arthur found himself tumbling headfirst into the Well of Dreams.
Chapter 11
“Wow!” Sophie exclaimed as she entered the cave and was greeted by a glittering mosaic of emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. Sunlight streamed into the space, bouncing around in a kaleidoscope of blinding color. She was more than a bit grateful when Merlin handed her a pair of Ray-Bans, though she did wonder where he bought them—a medieval Sunglass Hut, perhaps?
“It’s a bit…bright in here, I know,” he admitted.
“It’s incredible,” she replied, forgetting for a moment the trials and tribulations of the day. She was really here. In medieval times. In Merlin's legendary Crystal Cave! This was, like, the coolest thing ever, now that she was done being scared. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Oh man, Stu would be so jealous right now! If only she could have dragged him back in time, too.
“Oh, Sophie,” Merlin cried suddenly. To her surprise, the magician threw his arms around her and squeezed her into a bearlike hug. “It’s so good to meet you at long last.” He pulled away from the hug, studying her with happy eyes that crinkled at the corners. “You look just like her, too. And even prettier than Lord Vanquish said.”
“Whoa!” she cried, taking a step back, her heart in her throat again. “Just like who? And…Lord Vanquish? How do you…?” Just when she thought her day couldn’t get any stranger. “You know Stuart?”
Merlin chuckled. “Sir Melvin-Oh-One of Camelot's Honor, at your service,” he replied, dropping to a grand bow. He peeked up at her. “Pleased to make your real life acquaintance, Lady Bella.”
She stared at him, nearly speechless. “You’re not…I mean…You couldn't be.”
Or could he? Was it possible? Could she and Stu have, all this time, been playing Camelot’s Honor with someone actually from Camelot? It seemed impossible and yet after everything else that happened that day, kind of par for the course.
“I thought you were a surfer from California,” she finished lamely.
“I know. I apologize for not telling you the truth. I felt it was easier this way. You know, to keep a low profile. Besides, would you have really believed me if I told you the truth?”
He had a point. “So you’re the one who sent me the Camelot Code link?”
Merlin nodded.
“But…why?”
Merlin’s smile faltered. He gestured for her to have a seat at a small wooden table. “Because I need your help. There was an accident,” he told her. “And a very valuable relic of Avalon was lost.”
And so he told her the tale. How the Lady of the Lake and her Companions had entrusted him with the scabbard. About how Arthur—or maybe Guinevere—had dropped it into the Well of Dreams. About how it was currently lying somewhere in her millennium, unprotected and vulnerable.
“If it were to fall into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic,” he finished gravely. “Morgan Le Fay isn’t just a villain in a videogame, after all. She’s very real and she’s very interested in the scabbard's power. We spent years trying to get it back from her when she stole it from King Uther and many died in the attempt to do so.”
“What does she want with it?” Sophie asked after a low whistle. After all, it wasn't every day you were told your videogame nemesis was actually a living, breathing bad guy out to destroy the world.
“The scabbard is very powerful,” Merlin explained. “He who wears it can never bleed and never be killed. It was meant to be gifted to Arthur as a sheath for the sword Excalibur, once he pulled the sword from the stone. Without it, he remains vulnerable. I've shielded him this far—hiding him away from sight through spells and misdirection. But once he becomes king, he'll need a great power to protect him. Without the scabbard he'll never be able to achieve his true destiny and become the king he's prophesized to be.”
Sophie swallowed hard. And to think she’d believed going back in time was the crazy part of this whole adventure. Things now seemed a lot more epic. “But why me?” she asked. “I mean, of all people, in all the twenty-first century, why did you walk into my videogame? I’m no one. Just some kid.”
Merlin chuckled. “You may think that. But it's far from the truth.” He stroked his white beard thoughtfully. “I've been watching you, Sophie. And I know you'll prove worthy of this quest.”
“Watching me?”
Merlin nodded. “Of course. I made a promise to your mother that I would. And I always keep my promises.”
Sophie stared at him, mouth agape. Of all the things she had imagined he’d say, this was certainly not one of them. “M-my mother?” she stammered. “How on earth do you know my mother?” She sucked in a shaky breath, waiting for what he’d reveal next. “And do you know where she is, by any chance?” Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Please don't say dead. Please don't say dead. Please don't say—
“I am not at liberty to say at the moment,” Merlin said apologetically. “But I can assure you,” he added, catching her look, “that she is alive and well and misses you very much.” He stroked his beard. “Perhaps if you are able to bring back the scabbard, I will be able to arrange a meeting between the two of you when you get back.”
Sophie felt like her heart was going to come launching from her chest. The idea of seeing her mother again, well, that was worth undertaking any quest.
“Where do I sign up?” she asked. “And where do I start looking? I mean, no offense but 'somewhere in the twenty-first century' doesn't exactly narrow the search.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy,” Merlin replied. “To get online, I need a twenty-first century Internet connection. I use the one from your school.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You steal wireless from Sacred Mary’s?” No wonder their computers were always so laggy.
Merlin cleared his throat. “I prefer the term ‘borrow,’” he clarified. “In any case, when the scabbard was dropped into the well, I was in the middle of playing Camelot’s Honor. Therefore the Well of Dreams would have been keyed in to the general vicinity of the school. If I were you, I’d start my search there.” Okay, well at least it wasn’t in the Antarctic or something. But still… “And if I find it? Then what?”
“Then you just repeat the Camelot Code and return here and I will bring you to meet your mother.”
She swallowed hard, her hands shaking at the idea. It was almost too good to be true. To see her mother again. To hug her and hold her close. To tell her all the things that had been going on in her life. To find out where she'd been . . . and why she'd left.
“Well, then what are we waiting for?”
Merlin grinned, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “Not a thing. Let's go.” He rose from his seat. “There's a portal out back that will take you there in
the blink of an eye.”
Sophie followed him out of the cave, trying to focus her whirling thoughts. Once outside, she looked around for Arthur, but there was no sign of the boy. Too bad. She’d wanted to thank him for his rescue again—and apologize for being such a wimp about the flying thing. Maybe when she got back with the scabbard. She couldn't wait to tell Stu she'd met the real King Arthur. He'd be so impressed.
“The well is right through…” Merlin disappeared into a group of bushes, his voice trailing off. She hastened to catch up. Pushing through, she found the magician standing in front of a small stone structure, his face drained of color.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, cocking her head in question.
Merlin drew in a slow breath. “The well,” he murmured. “It’s been…used.”
“What do you mean, used?”
“See the swirling water?”
Sophie peered down into the well's depth. Something caught her eye. “Um, Merlin?” she said, reaching in and pulling out a small object floating on the surface. A leather shoe.
“By the gods,” Merlin whispered. “He did it. He actually did it.”
“Wait—who did what?” She looked at him questioningly, still not sure what was going on. Whatever it was, from the look on Merlin's face, it wasn't good.
“Arthur,” the magician said solemnly. “I think he went to retrieve the scabbard himself.”
Chapter 12
The magician stared down into the well, looking miserable “Why would he do this?” he muttered. “To jump to the future—alone, without a plan, or even a decent GPS or smart phone? Have I taught the boy nothing over the years?” He shook his head. “And the timing couldn't be worse; the tournament is this afternoon. If the boy fails to show up for his date with destiny . . . “
“So wait,” Sophie interjected, wanting to get this right. “So you're saying King Arthur just time-traveled to the twenty-first century?” she asked, incredulous. “To my school?”
Merlin let out a big sigh, then motioned for Sophie to follow him back through the brush and into the Crystal Cave. “How familiar are you with Arthurian legend?” he asked her as he led her back into his office.
“I’m a level seventy-nine Camelot’s Honor druid. What do you think?”
“Then you know the story of the sword in the stone,” Merlin replied. “And the prophecy.”
Sophie nodded. “Of course. Whoso can draw forth this sword is rightful King of Britain born,” she quoted. She knew it by heart, after Stu had quoted it to her a thousand times. “I remember in the game we had to ward off all these tribal kings who wanted to kill Arthur and become king in his place. It took us three times for us to beat it.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately in real life there are no do-overs,” Merlin said solemnly. “And Arthur is scheduled to pull the sword from the stone at the tournament this afternoon. If he doesn’t, he will lose his chance to become king.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Then why would he just take off like that?” she asked. “I mean, no offense, but it seems a bit short-sighted to be time traveling just hours before you’re scheduled to meet your destiny, doesn't it?”
“He doesn’t know,” Merlin said, wringing his hands. “He knows nothing of the sword or the stone or his destiny, for that matter. He believes he will attend the tournament only as his foster brother’s squire.”
“Uh, you didn’t think to give him a heads-up on that?”
Merlin shook his head. “The prophecies forbade it.”
Of course they did. “Well, does it have to be this tournament?” Sophie asked, knowing she was probably grasping at straws. But her gaming partner just looked so forlorn, she felt she had to say something. “I mean, they have these things all the time, right? Couldn’t he just do the sword/stone miracle thing at the next one?”
“No. I have consulted the prophesies extensively,” Merlin replied. “If Arthur does not become King of England and establish peace in the land at this very moment in history, the tribal kings will break out into war. Many will die and history will spiral off onto an alternative track. One in which the future—your future—may no longer exist.” He turned to Sophie, meeting her questioning eyes with his own. “Meaning,” he added, as if to drive his point home, “you may not exist. And if Arthur is still there, in the twenty-first century, when this happens, he may no longer exist either.”
Sophie swallowed hard. Well then. That certainly put things in perspective. “So what are you going to do?” she asked finally, her voice hoarse.
“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted. “Even if we knew exactly where he was at this moment, there would be no time to go back and retrieve him. And I can't pull him through some sort of device like I did with you. He obviously doesn't have an iPhone.”
“I don’t mean to sound stupid, but we are talking about time travel, right? Couldn’t you just order up some extra time to go get him?”
“Sadly, it doesn’t work like that,” Merlin replied. “Think of our timelines—yours and mine—like two trains running on parallel tracks. You can jump between them, but you’re always going to be the same distance apart.”
Sophie pursed her lips, staring down at her hands. To think this morning her only worry was killing a videogame Morgan Le Fay.
Merlin paced the room. “What we really need is some kind of pinch hitter. A stand-in King Arthur to do the big dog-and-pony show. That would, at least, buy us some time to go back to the future and retrieve our errant king.”
“But I thought it was Arthur’s magical destiny that allowed him to pull the sword from the stone,” Sophie argued. “How can anyone else do it?”
Merlin shook his head. “No, no, there’s no destiny involved whatsoever,” he told her. “I, myself, rigged that whole sword and the stone thing years ago and made up the whole legend to impress the locals. Anyone who knows the secret of how it’s wedged in could manage to get it out.” He stroked his beard miserably. “Problem is, I can’t trust anyone with that knowledge. If they betrayed me—told the tribal lords it was all a trick—they’d never accept Arthur as king once he got back.” He looked up at Sophie. “And he must be king. The world as we know it depends on it.”
“So you need a trustworthy stand-in,” she mused. “A guy who understands how important the quest is, but won’t spill the secret to his friends.”
“Aye,” Merlin agreed. “But where will we find someone like that? And on such short notice, too?”
Suddenly, Merlin’s computer binged, signaling an instant message. Sophie couldn't help but glance at the screen, surprised to see it was from Stu.
>>StuartMallory: Hey Melvin, any chance you could run one of my alts through the sword and the stone quest after school tomorrow? We could knock it out before Lady Bella gets online.
Merlin slowly looked up at Sophie. She reread the message, then looked back at him, raising her eyebrows.
Maybe there was hope for them yet.
Chapter 13
Stuart opened his eyes and looked around, wondering what on earth had just happened. Moments before he’d been in his bedroom, on his computer, checking out some videogame cheat code his videogame bud Melvin01 had IMed him.
Now he seemed to be standing in some kind of grassy clearing, surrounded by woods in all directions—not a bedroom or computer in sight. Which made no sense at all. Except—
His eyes fell on Sophie, walking toward him with hurried steps.
Aha! So that was it. He was having one of those dreams again.
Excellent.
“Stu,” his dream girl greeted, as she grew closer, dressed in a stunning medieval gown of crimson and gold that fell to her slippered feet. A crown of flowers wove through her silky blond hair and delicate silver rings adorned her long fingers.
Stu sighed contently. He loved these dreams. He silently thanked his subconscious for coming up with such a stellar visual this time around. Medieval Dream Sophie was one of his absolute favorite incarnations. Right after Futurist
ic Dream Sophie, who usually dressed in a silver bikini and platform boots.
He took a step forward, as he always did in the dreams, closing the distance between them and holding out his arms. “You have come, m’lady,” he murmured, deciding this dream definitely called for some role-playing. “As I knew you would.”
“Er, you did?” she asked, scrunching up her face in puzzlement. “Do you even know where you are?”
“I know that I am with you,” he replied grandly, sweeping into the kind of low, gallant bow a beautiful maiden like her commanded. “And that is all that concerns me.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Dude, did you hit your head during the time warp?”
Stu forced back a grimace. Outfit aside, she was making it very difficult to stay in character. “My lady,” he tried one last time, “I have waited ages to take you into my arms. I…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing all this role-playing was actually kind of stupid. Not to mention a big waste of a good Sophie dream. He needed to get to the making out part before some police siren or car alarm woke him up.
He boldly stepped forward, grabbing her in his arms and dipping her backwards, trying to get into position. Strange—she felt a lot heavier than she normally did in his dreams. Not to mention a whole lot squirmier.
“Stuart Michael Mallory, what do you think you’re doing?” Sophie demanded, struggling. “Put me down. Now!”
Her sharp words surprised and confused him so much he lost his grip. Sophie crashed unceremoniously to the ground.
Uh-oh.
“Err…” he stammered, feeling his face heat to a deep blush. “I’m, um, sorry…about that.” He held out a hand to try to help her up. She ignored it, looking up at him with a scowl.
“I thought I was…I mean…” He could feel his face heat and realized he was probably red as a fire truck right about now. “Is this a dream?” he blurted out, regretting the words the second they left his mouth. If it wasn’t a dream—and he was getting a pretty good feeling that it wasn’t—she was going to think he was a total moron. Thank goodness he hadn’t actually managed to kiss her. That would have been impossible to explain.
